The Worth of Ebony
by AgamemnonV1
Summary: A smith gets more than he bargains for once he obtains the legendary ebony armor in Skyrim.


It's been two weeks since I forged myself some ebony armor. It was a long time running, but through enough patience (and with some training on Eorlund Grey-Mane's part), I was finally able to apprehend the right technique to fashion ebony. Its use is of immense legend and the fact that there's an entire mine full of the stuff in an Orc stronghold means that the Empire doesn't have a foothold on the stuff here in Skyrim.

Gaining access to the stronghold was easy enough. I helped an Orc out some months back to clear out a gold mine in the Reach of Foresworn-he put in a good word. I walked through the gates unchecked and wasted no time in heading straight to the mine. The smith outside told me he'd pay top price if I brought him the ore, but I didn't even mutter a word in response. I wasn't planning on telling anyone that I intended to actually leave with all the ore for my own purpose. After all, no one seemed to care when I hacked away for hours. The other Orcs working the mine just stared at me intently.

I wasn't even bothered by how I slipped some ore that had already been mined. I'm sure the smith was pretty confused when he woke up the next morning to find all that ebony in his bucket gone. But hey, I left the place without so much as word from anyone. Then again, there was only one Orc who was still awake at the time. She sort of just glared at me as I walked out the gates, but that's what she had been doing ever since I got to the place.

The risk was worth it. The armor deflects blows with relative ease. The true test was against a giant. My brain told me it was probably one of the dumbest things I did, but I did it anyway. When he swung that club, I went flying, but when I landed I was just fine. It felt like I had suddenly been pulled back and dragged across the ground-not a single bruise. Sure, it's cumbersome, but it is the stuff of legends. I am walking around with strong glass armor.

One day I was in the Rift looking for work. I was speaking to a farmer outside of Riften about a stolen bow when three men came up to me and insisted that they were going to teach me a lesson. I tried to reason with them, as I knew immediately they were no match for my skill (or my equipment), but they pressed on. A local patrol joined in on the fray and, quickly, the men were cut asunder. The guards questioned me as to what had happened but I was just as confused. Clearly bothered and not wanting to have anything to do with a possible feud, they left the scene with three bodies on the farmer's property. He cursed at them as they left but eventually gave up.

I felt inclined to help, as it is never a great sight when men foolishly throw their lives away. I dragged their bodies off his farm and close to the shore and behind a boulder where I meant to dig their graves. I stripped them of their gear and left them with their greaves, boots, and daggers, as it didn't feel right burying these men without so much as anything in their name other than what they carried on their backs (the armor pieces I decided were better off in my possession so that I could break down the materials-steel is difficult to come by, given its high demand these days). In one of their satchels I found the answer to my burning question: why did this happen?

It was a contract against me. It specified that I should be "taught a lesson", for I was a thief, and it was taken out by someone named 'Yatul'. I was even more confused by this. I mean, truthfully, I had stolen quite a number of things in the past, so I was unsure as to who exactly I had wronged because I had no idea who this 'Yatul' was. Eventually I asked around in town and found my answer-it was an Orcish name. After that it was pretty clear where I had to head off to after that.

I traveled back to the stronghold and reached it by midnight. There, at the gates, was the same Orc who had glared at me when I had left two weeks before. And it suddenly struck me-she knew. I mean, of course she knew. I was carrying a couple of satchels full of ore. And I suppose it wasn't too difficult for her to ask around to see if I had paid for it or not. But that's when it hit me-Orcs take care of their own business. They don't send out outsiders-that's a sign of weakness (or so that book on Orcs tells me). Which means she had betrayed her own god, and her own people, by extension.

That thought loomed over my head when I marched right up to her. She didn't say a word-she just stared at me through those cold eyes. I slipped out the contract and held it out to her. She didn't take it. She didn't even look down at it. She knew what it was. So I dropped it on the ground at our feet. It was just the two of us and the chill of the night. Not a word was spoken for what felt like an eternity. Finally, I grew weary of it all; I drew my sword before she could even get her hand to her axe. I grabbed her by the shoulder, shoved her down, and jammed my sword into her chest and through her heart. With my ebony sword. With the ore I had taken from her home. She crumpled to the ground. I looked around to see if maybe someone would come running out but no one did. And so I left.

Weeks later I was in Windhelm having a mug of mead at the tavern when an Orc walked in. He spotted me from afar and walked right toward me. I kept a grip on the hilt of my sword as he stood before me. He asked me if the armor I wore was mine; I said it was. He sat down opposite of me and the place was silent as he began to relate a story to me. He said that he had heard from another Orc who trades with a stronghold not too far from Windhelm that a Nord armed in ebony killed an Orc at the stronghold. But the truly interesting part to the story is that the chieftain discovered the contact that was left by her body and deemed that she was weak in the eyes of Malacath. And (here was the surprising part) since I'm what's considered 'blood-kin', I was within my 'rights' to seek a blood price against her weakness. She was marked as Yatul the Weak and her body was dumped off the mountain as punishment.

For a moment I thought the story would end on the note that I would be revered amongst the Orcs of that stronghold, or that I would be welcomed back, but it just goes to show you that the Orcs mean to make an enemy out of everyone. This Orc told me that the seer of the stronghold interpreted my being all covered in ebony and the fact that I killed her with an ebony weapon made me the 'indirect instrument' of the enemy of Malacath, and that I was marked for death amongst all Orcs. I had even earned a nickname: Ebonarm.

The room was still quiet when the Orc had finished his story. After a tense moment, he stood up from his seat and told me that he would wait outside the city and that we would do battle then. I tried to tell him that I was hardly the instrument for the Daedra, or whoever this Ebonarm was, but he wouldn't listen and left. The entire tavern stared at me for awhile before the bard started their normal routine. I didn't waste any time. I meant to ride out of the Eastmarch and back to Whiterun and maybe lay low for awhile. I certainly didn't want to be fighting a bunch of Orc berserkers any time soon, much less the one that sat down with me for a mead before telling me we would battle to the death.

My feet carried me to the stables outside of Windhelm and I quickly checked out my horse (I had only just bought him from Solitude a month ago, so it still wasn't too accustomed to my appearance). I mounted it quickly and placed my helmet upon my head. I rode out of there quickly, making for the road to Whiterun when I could make out in the distance an Orc band-there had to be about ten or fifteen of them just armed to the teeth, waiting for me-the one from the tavern was standing amidst them all. I didn't miss a beat; I figured I'd try and outrun them all. I charged forth and unsheathed my ebony sword, yelling as I went on, hoping that it would at least get them to give me a birth to escape. Instead they all went clamoring for the hills, dropping their weapons and running in the opposite direction I was. I didn't stop to think twice of what had just happened. All I know is, on my journey back to Whiterun, I probably saw a number of Orcs from a distance, all of whom ran from my sight when I came roaring through on my horse.

I'm beginning to think this ebony armor is more trouble than it's worth.


End file.
